


The Mixed up Files Of Alexander Waverly

by Sokorra



Series: The "Quote" Prompt Series [22]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Gen, Most don't, not all chapters have character death, some show tie ins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-05-19 15:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5972617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokorra/pseuds/Sokorra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles done for the quote prompt series as well as the Lyric prompt series dealing with the 2015 movie Man From Uncle.  Also includes references to TV show events.</p><p>A mixture of lengths, quality, genre and in one case time periods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quote Prompts given December 2014

**“You know you don’t have to. We believe you.”**

_ Jonathan Hays ‘Earth Star Voyager’ _

_ (12/01) _

 

“Fight me.”  Napoleon looked up from his newspaper to find Gaby standing in front of him, her hands on her hips and anger in her eyes.

“Excuse me.”

“Fight.  Me.”

“I should fight you because...”

“Clearly you and Kuryakin don’t believe I have the ability to handle myself, therefore I must prove I can hold my own.  Fight me.”

“No.”

“You really don’t think I could handle it do you?”

“No, I think that Waverly is going to be a little upset if we send one more bill home with damaged furniture.  You and Peril go through enough as it is.”

“It was only that once.  You make it sound like we do that every time.”

“Once that bad.  Most of the time it's only a lamp or a table instead of the whole room.  Besides, we do believe you can handle yourself in most situations.  But you were never trained to be a spy, not really.  So until you get a few missions under your belt, it's up to use to make sure that you stay in one piece.”  He flicked the paper back to straight and continued reading, smirking as he heard her groan in annoyance and stomp out of the room.

He wished Peril all the luck in the world dealing with an angry Gaby.

 

* * *

 

 

**"We need a different enemy."**

_ CJ 'The West Wing' _

_ (12/7) _

It was odd, switching from thinking of him as an enemy to thinking of him as a partner.  He was sure they all found the adjustment awkward but it was surprisingly easier than he imagined when all was said and done. 

He had spent the last fifteen years of his life thinking of the Germans and Russians as the enemy, either in the war, or in the cold one that they were currently in.  Yet after one week on a joint mission he trusted these two more then he had most of his CIA colleagues.

In Gaby, over the months after their initial mission, became sort of a pseudo-younger sister for him.  Ilya a younger brother.  It was amusing trying to push those two together, and remarkably he never felt like a third wheel.  Professionally they melded well together, whether it was all three, or just two as it later became when Gaby changed over to training and recruitment. But they became much more than just a professional team.  They became a family.

Even years later, when he sat in Gaby and Ilya’s living room while their son Peter played on the floor with his toys and Gaby was curled up on the couch next to him holding her tea and laughing at his tales of Illya on missions, it caught him how easily they stopped being his enemy and started being who he fought the enemy for.

 

* * *

 

 

**"The fact remains that I can take care of myself just fine."**

_ Elizabeth Thatcher 'When Calls The Heart' _

_ (12/10) _

Napoleon looked up from shining his shoes at Gaby’s interest, watching in amusement as she slammed things around the room.  Doors, cabinets, her shoes.

“Is something the matter, dear wife?”  He teased.  For this mission he and Gaby had been paired up as an American and his foreign wife, hoping to find some summer residences in her native land to curb her homesickness.  She was ‘unaware’ that her husband was paying for it with black market gun sales.  The two of them worked well together, and it amused Napoleon to no end to see Illya gritting his teeth when the cover was brought up.

The poor man had no idea how badly he was done for.

“Why is it he can’t see I can take care of myself?”  She said, with no intro or context.  He assumed, of course, she was speaking of their third team member, who was currently residing in a nearby room acting the role of a Russian tourist.  Who also sold guns.  “He followed me today when I went shopping with Gizelle.  Today was an easy operation.  I just needed to befriend Hertzel’s wife.  Yet somehow he couldn’t trust me with even that.

“I don’t think it's lack of trust in your abilities,” Napoleon stated, continuing to shine his shoes.  “We all know how capable you are.  He just doesn’t trust anyone else, and has found it hard to not make sure you are okay.”

“And that is different because?”

“He would have let you kick their asses, but stepped in if you actually needed him.  He’s in love with you, Darling, and hasn’t figured out how to show it other then making sure your safe.”

“Well, he needs to start finding a better way!” She insisted, through her ire seemed cooled.  “Verbally perhaps?”

Napoleon shrugged.  “Besides, if he’s not allowed to follow you, I would assume you would stop following him.” he continued with a raised eyebrow and a glance in her direction.

“Oh, shut up.”  She said before storming into their bedroom.

Napoleon smiled.  It was a good day.

 

* * *

 

 

**"I have never seen you turn down free food and a chance to dress up."**

_ Caleb 'Pretty Little Liars'  
_ _ (12/16) _

 

It didn’t take Gaby long to find out she loved playacting at Parties.  She loved to dress up.  She loved eating the free food (although she would always complain about the serving sizes and the over abundance of salmon puffs).  She loved hanging on to Napoleon or Illya’s arm pretending to be the wife or girlfriend who was either ditzy as to not catch anything important or too quiet to be noticed. She honestly prefered the ditzy.  It was more fun.

People would say things around her that they wouldn’t expect her to retain.  Or they would expect her to carry on to her husband yet not catch the implications.  However, it gave her tons of intel that the boys were unable to get simply because of annoying social practices.

Thankfully she was neither as ditzy as she pretended or as disrespected as some of the women she found herself were.  Both Napoleon and Illya had long ago thrown away the idea that she was someone to cuddle but not rely on.  That's not to say the two lovable idiots didn’t try to protect her more than her fair share, but for the most part they tried their best not to impede her when she was getting the job done.

And, amusing as it was, she thought they liked dressing her up as much as she liked to dress up.


	2. Quotes Prompts December 2014 (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Modern Gaby just wants to change her look.  
> \- Waverly reviews the team  
> \- A missing scene from the movie - Gaby decides to return the ring

**"I'm gonna help you with your borderline slutty rebranding."**

_ Bay 'Switched At Birth' _

_ (12/17) - Modern AU _

 

Gaby rolled her eyes as she heard her classmates bickering outside the dressing rooms.  She had asked them to help her change her look.  She wanted to remake herself, to not just be the german bookworm who walked around with oil stained pants.  So she had asked two of the upperclassman she had befriended a few months before during a special project that Dean Waverly had them working on to celebrate international week at the University.

She was now regretting it.  The two men, while knowledgeable in women’s fashions to a degree uncommon outside, well, women and designers it seemed, they had spent more time arguing over their differing tastes then actually helping her find an outfit or two that made her look a bit more fabulous when at a party.

They had both thrust dresses at her to try on, and continued in their argument.  If Napoleon wasn’t so aggressively straight she might think the two of them were into each other.  Of course she wasn’t sure about Illya.  The man was more mystery than one would expect with a friend you have more than once passed out on the couch of.  It would be just her luck that Napoleon would have won his interest, as she had been trying subtly to gain his attention in a more amorous way since the new semester begin.

Napoleon found it hilarious and made sure to make veiled euphemisms about it, which rather didn’t help.

“Alright, here goes.”  She stepped out of the dressing room and walked to the three mirrors placed for this purpose and where the two man stood, frozen as they spotted her.  Napoleon started to grin, as it was his dress she had decided to try on first, almost as if he had won.

Ilya on the other hand was looking at her in quite a different way, which made her smile.

It seemed Napoleon hadn’t won his interest after all.

 

* * *

 

 

**“You’re very good. I chose you to be the best but you’re even better than I hoped.”**

_ Admiral Beasley ‘Earth Star Voyager’ _

_ (12/25) _

Waverly was very pleased with himself as he read the reports his agents had submitted from their latest mission.  He had started Uncle as a way to bring peace to the world by using the skills he honed being a british intelligence officer.  And he had chosen these three agents because they were one of the best their respective agencies had to offer.  Or at least Kuryakin and Solo were.  Gaby Teller was his own creation and it pleased him to see his mentee doing so well.

They were helping solidify Uncle. The actual agency had been developed in his youth with a few international friends.  However due his vices, and those of others, the only true development came in recent years.  He was currently working from London, finishing up his tenure at MI6, and next year they would be moving into the official Uncle Headquarters in NY, near the UN which was its primarily source for support.

Solo and Teller would be alright in New York, but he wondered about Kuryakin.  He had finally been able to get the KGB to release him from their oversight but he hadn’t told the agent yet.  London was a halfway ground between Russia and the United States.  Moving to New York would put the agent in the middle of all the things he was raised to distrust and dislike.

However, he had been watching them over the last year and he realised that the three of them had formed a sort of family.  And that Gaby felt something more for the Russian agent.  He was sure between his adoptive older brother, and the woman who loved him too much to tell him he would adjust fine.

He closed the files and asked his assistant to let them in.

 

* * *

 

 

**"I haven't had a shower in a week since it happened."**

_ Russell Howard 'Good News' _

_ (12/27) _

Gaby sighed as the hot water hit her body.  It felt like it had been weeks since she had had a proper shower.  Realistically it had only been hours.  The hardened mud softened and streamed off as she stood there.  She wish she could wash away more than just the mud and the blood.  That she could wash away the panic and the fear.

The only thing she didn’t want to forget was that look in Illya’s eyes as he gazed down at her, cradling her head in his lap like she was the most precious thing in the world.  If she hadn’t fallen in love with him at that point, she definitely was now.   She wasn’t sure she hadn’t already been, which was strange as they had known each other less than a week.  But something between them had connected.

That look was burned into her brain and she never wanted to forget it.  The soft look, the water running down his face, the way his hair was no longer carefully combed back away from his face.  He had been like some beautiful angel there to save her.  And she had felt more relief knowing he was okay then that she was going to be.

As she stepped out of the shower, and wrapped a fluffy towel around her body, she felt a little sorrow creep in.  She was heading to England in a few hours, he to wherever the KGB felt he should go. She would return his ring and that would be that.

And all she would have were a few memories of a battered angel.


	3. August 2014 Prompts Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ Gaby likes to Pounce.  
> \- Gaby promises Illya something  
> \- Illya breaks a promise (CHARACTER DEATH)

**“The first time I didn’t know, the second time I didn’t care that much.”**

_ Donna ‘The West Wing _

_ (8/7) _

 

Gaby liked to pounce on Illya.  She didn’t realise when she first started how fun it was going to be.  It served the purpose of being fun, and it annoyed Illya when she surprised him.  Not always.  Sometimes he saw her coming.  

Her favourite ones where he played along, though.  When he’d allow her to take him to floor, to fight like they had that first night, although with usually much better results.  She rarely passed out on him for one thing. They got better at it, not destroying as much furniture, but it was fun, broke the monotony and she always enjoyed that moment when he allowed her to pin him to the floor.

She wasn’t an idiot.  Illya was at least a foot taller, and a good 50 lbs heavier.  If he wanted to he could have pushed her into the floor.  But he never did.  He was the gentle giant. Not everyone got to see that side of the man nicknamed Peril.  He was always so gentle with her, even when she wished he wouldn’t be.   
  
She was positively thrilled then, when he started pouncing on her in return.

 

* * *

 

 

**“We’re right here beside you, we won’t let you slip away. Plan for tomorrow, because we swear to you, you’re going to be OK.”**

_ All ‘Scrubs’ (8/08) _

When the KGB called Illya back,  she couldn’t say she was totally surprised.  It had been hanging over their heads over the past year that it would happen, or that the CIA would recall Napoleon.  Waverly was working on making UNCLE autonomous, making its agents fully under the umbrella of the agency, but it wasn’t easy.

“We are going to get you back,” she said to the silent room.  He was sitting on the couch, for once a glass of whiskey in his hand.  Napoleon sat on a chair near her, and murmured an agreement.  “We won’t let them keep you.”

“You know, this is my country.”  Illya said, but it wasn’t full hearted.  They all knew he loved his country, that was never in doubt.  Whether its officials loved him was what was in question, and Gaby knew without a doubt the answer was less than what she felt suitable.

“We aren’t asking you to defect,” Napoleon said, though she suspected they were in a way.  “We are just saying we aren’t going to allow them to keep you to themselves.”

In the year they had been working together, the three of them had become a team, a family.  Despite their original opinion of the other, the boys were like brothers.  Her relationship with Napoleon was likewise fraternal.  But as she looked at Illya now, despite their resolution that they couldn’t do anything, she knew her relationship with him never was nor could be simply described as sisterly.

She loved him.  The love was simple.  She loved Napoleon too.  It was the other bits that made things difficult.  She knew it wasn’t easy for him either.  However, they put their work before their personal feelings and they had agreed on that.

That didn’t mean she was going to allow the KGB to ruin all the work she and Napoleon had done in making Illya feel more comfortable in his skin, making him feel like he belonged.

And they were the best.

 

* * *

 

 

**“What I did wrong wasn’t breaking my word. It was making a promise I couldn’t keep in the first place.”**

_ Josh ‘The West Wing’ _

_ (8/17) _

Neither man appeared to notice the rain.  The crowd had been small, what with most of her friends being out of country and unable to come, but those who came had loved her.  They started to drift away as the ceremony was complete, leaving the two men staring at the grave , and a third one standing slightly back, an umbrella keeping him dry.

The darker haired man turned to look at his blonde companion and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “We should go, Illya.”

“I...go ahead.  I just need..”

“I understand.”  The man didn’t leave, but stood next to his friend.

“I promised her it would be okay.”

“Illya.”

“I promised her I’d be there.”

“It’s not your fault.  It's not anyone’s fault.”

“I broke my promise.”

“Gaby wouldn’t blame you, Ilya.”

“No, she’s dead, Napoleon.”  Napoleon sighed, sparing a glance at the other man standing watch.  

“She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, Illya, and you know that.  She also wouldn’t want you standing in the rain getting soaked.  Let's go back to the house and have a whiskey in her honor.”

Illya reluctantly allowed himself to be led away from the gravesite into the warm car that had been called to take them back home.

He wasn’t sure it would feel like home anymore, not with Gaby gone.

(special note:  This particular one-shot was to get an idea out as well.  I had a longer fic planned but didn't have the time to commit to it, so you might see sequel drabbles/one-shots to this).


	4. August 2014 Prompts Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Gaby has lessons to share  
> \- Illya doesn't celebrate Birthdays

**“Listen up princess, when I was your age I was you, and did I always make the best choices? Nah. Rarely. The truth is I destroyed a lot of people.”**

_Dakota ‘About A Boy_

(8/19)

 

Gaby looked at the new agent sitting before her.  She had been assigned to train her, to show her all the ways of an Uncle agent.  Training was difficult under normal circumstances, but the girl before her had read up on Gaby’s history, had become a bit of a fan so to speak of intelligence officers had fans.

It's hard to train when one is a legend.

“You’ll find, Elizabeth, that there is more to spywork then what James Bond tells you.  Or what you may have read glorified in a file for young agents to read.  It's hard work, and it comes with its own cost.”  She paid the cost several times over.  Lost her home (although she wasn’t too broken up about that one), Her father, her innocence about the actions of her Uncle.  She had nearly lost the man she loved.  Almost lost her son.  It was not without cost.  “You can’t go into this thinking it's all glamourous playacting and action sequences.  It's hard work.”  
  
From the look on the girl’s face, Gaby’s lesson was not one she would learn in theory.

 

* * *

 

 

**"So I'm real sorry there, but this is not a special day for me. It's just a day."**

_Cox 'Scrubs'_

_(8/21)_

Illya was not someone who cared for celebrations.  The occasional celebratory drink, maybe.  A small gathering of friends he could handle.  But the lavish parties were not his style.  Perhaps it was an element of his Soviet upbringing, but it seemed wasteful and since his family had disintegrated it seemed mildly self-indulgent.

He couldn’t quite explain this to his friends.  Napoleon ignored him and planned birthday parties.  Gaby just looked at him sadly and while she didn’t ignore his wishes, she didn’t stop Napoleon from inflicting the parties.  SHe did however make sure they were small, usually just the three of them and some of their closest friends.

It was still just a day for him, like any other, and he was often surprised by the parties simply because he forgot that his birthday had come around again.

It was Gaby, in the end, who found a way to make the day special again, handing him a pair of knitted slippers one year that he could hold in one hand.  They were tied together with a note attached that simply said С Днем Рождения, папа on it.  Her smile when he looked up confirmed everything.

HIs birthday still remained just another day.  His children’s birthdays however were always celebrated.  Although sometimes they had to rein Uncle Napoleon in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation note:  
> Translation via Google Translate so pardon any inaccuracies.   С Днем Рождения = Happy Birthday Dad/Papa )


	5. September 2014 prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illya and Gaby finally say the words.

This drabble is from a ongoing story in my head to explain why Gaby wasn't on the TV series and yet still give them a chance at a happy ending.  The context is that Gaby had to fake her death to go undercover on a mission.  She assumed that Waverly, Napoleon and Illya would be told but they never were.  Years later she sends her son Peter to them for protection and to inform them that she needs an extraction team.  Illya and Napoleon of course sign right up.  This scene happens in the aftermath of getting Gaby out.

 

**“At least I know how you feel.”**

Chen ‘ER’

(9/26)

 

Somehow Gaby never imagined that hearing those words from Illya would come during a middle of a fight.  Not just a regular fight either.  They were practically screaming at each other and not too long after they started, Napoleon and Waverly had taken their leave, Napoleon taking Peter along with him so the two could fight alone.

But then again, this fight had been brewing for 5 years.  Brewing since the day she accepted the assignment that forced her to fake her own death.  Brewing since they were both betrayed by her handler, Paul Anders, who had told her that Illya and Napoleon knew.  That Waverly knew.

They hadn’t.

So she still had the feeling of anger and betrayal floating through her body, even knowing the truth.  Illya also had to contend with his emotions considering about twenty-four hours previously he had thought her to be dead.  

They took it out on each other.  But each was also angry enough that the words didn’t cut that deep because there was already a cut ready to be served.  Up until the moment Illya yelled ‘BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.’.

Then there wasn’t a sound.  They just stared at each other, their breathing coming in bits from the arguing.  Their eyes locked in a silent battle all of their own.  Her eyes softened first, stepping tentatively towards him.  She stopped just short of him, her hand reaching out towards his as she finally said the words she has wanted to say for years.  Practiced so she could get the phrase properly said.

“я тоже тебя люблю.”  Instantly his lips were on hers and the two of them kissed for the first time in five years.  She was very glad that Napoleon had taken Peter out as the two didn’t even make it out of the living room.

Later they lay on the couch, covered in one of the old Afghans Gaby had bought years ago when this had been their home while building the New York Uncle Office.  She turned her head slightly to kiss his shoulder before resting her head on his chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“I am too,” he replied, playing with her hair.  She knew that it wouldn’t be easy.  They were both a little emotionally battered from the last few years.  But they would work it out.  They were too stubborn to do otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak Russian, so I relied on Google Translate for help. If you do know Russian and find my translation is wrong in some way, let me know.
> 
> “я тоже тебя люблю" = I love you too.


	6. April 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illya in the aftermath of a KGB mission

__ Why don’t you get it together now  
Failure’s not flattering  
When will you show yourself  
When will you show control

**“Failure’s Not Flattering” by New Found Glory**

(4/14)

 

Illya’s hands turned white as he gripped the countertop of the bathroom sink.  He took long deep breaths, trying to calm the rage that threatened to overtake him.  It was getting easier.  With Napoleon and Gaby’s help, he had found ways to tame it, but that didn’t mean it was completely gone.  Not even with Waverly's added psychologist.

He had been on a mission for the KGB.  They had grown fewer over the year as the CIA and KGB both started to realise the need for UNCLE.  Plus the strong associations with a ex-patriot of East Germany and the New Yorker were perhaps a bit of a trouble point for his handlers back home.  There were other agents with less potential problems due to loyalty to outside intelligence agents.

But this last mission had been a test, and he knew it.  A tug on the leash to see if he was truly lost to them as an effective agent.  He was pretty sure he confirmed their fears.  He didn’t doubt his skill, but with almost two years behind him with Napoleon and Gaby he knew he would be of better use for UNCLE then for the KGB.

He hadn’t been prepared for how this latest mission would affect him.  A defector, a young girl, a little younger then Gaby, had been brought in for interrogation. There were enough similarities between her and Gaby that he knew that he had been brought here for the express purpose of seeing what could happen to her. He had managed to remain still, to not show how it affected him.  Up until he entered his Moscow apartment.

He knew there were devices.  One did not reach his level without being observant and cautious about listening devices.  So he tried to keep his anger and frustration within bounds.  But the last image he had of the young german woman, her face red from where Korolov had smacked her, kept repeating in his head till he grabbed the canisters of soap on the counter and tossed them against the wall.

  
  



	7. May Prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Gaby watches over her boys  
> 2\. Gaby fights with Illya  
> 3\. Gaby fights with Illya with better results

Here’s to all that we kissed and to all that we missed

To the biggest mistakes that we just wouldn’t trade

To us breaking up without us breaking down

To whatever’s coming our way

**“Here’s to Us” - Halestorm**

(5/7)

 

The room was dark, and a storm raged outside, but all Gaby felt was peace.  Curled up with her boys to either side of her felt more like home than anything she had experienced in quite some time.

This had been the first time all three of them had separate missions.  The boys had gone back to their respective agencies, and Gaby had done a solo mission for Uncle.  Her mission had been simple, and easily done considering how things normally had been going for her.  She had been the one to set up the little house in the country they would use for a respite between missions.  She had been almost finished when Napoleon and Illya showed up, one right after the other, looking that they had been turned asunder.

Currently they were both asleep in the massive bed that was in the master bedroom, the room she had chosen for herself.  Napoleon was on the right, laying on his stomach, one hand glancing the floor and the other under the pillow.  Shirtless, having just passed out after his shower, she could see scars and bruises that told of a mission that had been as smooth sailing as Napoleon had claimed.  It was clear he was exhausted as the tumblr with whiskey still sat on the nightstand and his room had been too far for him to stumble down the hallway to.

On her left, curled around her as if she was his lifeline was Illya.  HIs hair was growing longer and she shifted a little to run her fingers through it.  Like Napoleon he was exhausted, and covered in bruises and wounds.  He hadn’t said a word since he came home though, instead choosing to wrap himself around her and sleep.

In the morning she get them to tell her what happened, why they were so worn and wiped out.  She wanted to wring the necks of their handlers for letting them get so banged up.  She felt sometimes as if she was the only one capable of the care of Solo & Kuryakin, a pair of great agents that no one seemed to know how to tap into quite like Waverly.  

Instead she placed the throw blanket over Napoleon, and wrapped herself around Illya. She would do her best to heal them, to bring them back from where their respective agencies sent them.  But for now they would all sleep.

They would face everything tomorrow, together.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Now there’s gravel in our voices, glasses shattered from the fight _

_ In this tug of war you’ll always win even when I’m right _

_ ‘Cause you feed me fables from your hand, with violent words and empty threats _

_ And it’s sick that all these battles are what keeps me satisfied _

**Love the Way You Lie Part II- Rihanna**

(5/17)

She wondered if this was unhealthy. Fighting with him.  Probably.  She couldn’t exactly say they had the most conventional relationship.  Really, they weren’t supposed to have one at all.  So she would take what she could get, and that meant fighting with him, the two of them throwing their emotional connection into anger, the only one they could express freely without commentary.

Well, almost.  Napoleon was there, so there was  _ always _ commentary.

Sometimes she wish they could stop fighting.  Stop pushing at each other and start allowing themselves what they really wanted.  To be able to hold one another.  For her to be able to calm him when he returned from another trip to Russia, unable to tell her what went on.  For him to hold her close when she had dreams that still happened, remembering Uncle Rudy and all he had done.

But they couldn’t.  Not until they were all free from the binds that held them.  Until all she had was to fight. To twist them together with words and motions that wouldn’t show how much she had fallen in love with him, or how much she saw it returned in his eyes when he throw words back at her.

 

* * *

 

 

Obviously we're too destructive

Filling your days with romantics

It’s in your blood to draw attention

Making the best of the situation

\-- **_”Situations” by New Found Glory_ **

(5/20)

(Full version rather than challenge version)

“Was that better?”  She bite out, holding him down in a hold she knew perfectly well if he wanted to he could get out of.  She was breathing heavily at the excercen of the training excercises that were meant to teach her how to deal with fights on her own.  Except she wasn’t sure she’d know if she really could till she was up against a real opponent.  Napoleon always went easy on her, and while Illya didn’t, She was pretty sure the resulting reaction in both was decidedly not what she expected when someone was actively trying to kill her.

For example, right now he was looking up at her, the look in his eye decidedly  _ not _ about defenses.  For a moment she thought he was going to break and pull her down to him and take this another step further, where they both wanted to go.

Problem was Illya always had more control than anyone ever gave him credit for. So while she was surprised at his next move, she also wasn’t.  He used her distraction to switch their bodies so he was holding her down, a play knife at her neck.

“You need to be more observant.”  Napoleon mumbled something from where he sat reading the morning paper that she couldn’t hear, but Illya clearly had as his head snapped to glare at their companion. 

She tested her limits.  His arm rested lightly on her shoulders, holding her body down, but left the rest of her body free to continue fighting.  So she used Illya’s own distraction to clamp her legs around his waist, twisting them so she was back on top.

“Aha!”  She stated in triumph smiling down at him.  He nodded his approval, but this time things were a little more awkward. The placement of her body ontop of his made it very clear that he was about as turned on by their fighting as she was.  To be honest, Napoleon’s existance in the room was the only thinking keeping her from finally getting that kiss she had wanted since that night in room.

She kept her eyes on Illya, the two of them caught in a stalemate.  Either one would have to make a move to continue the fight, or continue the alternative.

“Well, that’s my cue,”  Napoleon said with a smirk, which neither of his companions saw yet knew existed all the same.  He folded up the paper and stood up to walk out of the room.  “As amusing as it is to watch you two fight this thing, maybe it would better for all of us if you just got it out of the way.  It's distracting.”  He turned to see if there would be any response but still found Gaby staring down at Illya.  Rolling his eyes he closed the door behind him loudly.

It was the banging of the door that seemed to break the dam wide open and she slipped her arms from their hold on his arms, to settle beside his head, slowly settling down on him, like they had that night in Rome.  His arms that had been holding onto hers slide up her shoulders.

“What do you want?”  She finally asked.

“Everything and nothing all at once,” was his enigmatic answer before she pushed forward and kissed him, finally claiming what had been theirs.

She really hopped that Napoleon had locked the door on his way out.


	8. June Prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This drabble is part of a longer story I hope to write to explain Gaby's absence from the TV series.
> 
> Waverly calls Napoleon and Illya in with some interesting news.

_ Making my way through the storm _ _   
_ _ This beating heart has never been so worn _ _   
_ _ Hanging roses around my neck _ _   
_ _ ‘Cause in this life we’ll never know what to expect _ _   
_ _ Yeah we’re acting like fools _ _   
_ _ Not too concerned with what we’ll do _   
\-- **_”Dear Love” by Lauren Marsh_ **

(6/27)

Illya had not expected to have his world change again when he walked into work that morning.  Yet it had.  It had started off a normal day, walking into the tailor shop, entering the changing room and thus changing over to Uncle’s HQ, followed by being scanned for all weaponry and then trying to find out which secretary pool Napoleon had found his way to today

Except before he could find Napoleon, Napoleon found him.  They both walked to Waverly's office, not knowing what the summons was about, except Napoleon had been told that it was urgent, and top secret.  So the biggest surprise of all was to find their boss sitting across the boardroom table of a five year old boy.  When he turned around to look at him, Illya was hit with the thought that he reminded him of Gaby except for the eyes, which were a hazel instead of her brown.

“Solo, Kuryakin.”  Waverly greeted.  His tone seemed to be filled with suppressed anger.  “This young chap has brought some interesting news to us that makes UNCLE look like a bumbling fool.”

“Aren’t we recruiting a little young?”  Napoleon joked, with a wink towards the boy.

“This Peter Teller.”  They both looked up at him at those words.  “Yes, exactly what you think.  Apparently, six years ago our Dear Gaby was approached by Andrew Falcman for a special assignment.”

“She died during that assignment,”  Illya commented.  The moment they told him she was dead was seared into his memory.

“Well, it appears that Mr. Falcman was not entirely upfront about his mission.  She has in fact been deep undercover for Mr. Falcman for the last six years, with the belief that everyone at Uncle knew she was alive.  That the death had been a way of making sure that her cover and her real identity were never linked.  She was in fact the author of the “Uncle ALexander” messages.

Illya thought about sitting down, but found himself pacing instead.  A storm of thoughts ran through his head.  She was alive.  They lied to him.  She had not had him or Napoleon as backup all these years.  She had talked to them, not knowing they thought she was dead.

It was confusing before you added his heartbreak into the whole situation.  However, the next news, while indicated earlier, was what hit him hardest.

“Peter is her son.”


End file.
